OTP: I Want To Hold Your Hand
by RokuKuKyu
Summary: AU Brittany and Santana meeting for the first time in a college Sociology class.
1. Chapter 1

"Alright, class." Mr. Phillips allowed the young adults to settle into a studious mode as he picked up a stack of papers off the corner of his desk. He stood in front of them, fanning the corners of the pages in his hand repeatedly with the thumb and index finger of his right hand until he had the attention of each person in the room.

"Now that we are 3 weeks in and it seems all the transfers and drops are locked in, we are going to do a little introduction exercise. Each of these sheets of paper" he began passing them out at the beginning of the first row "has its own match." He laughed to himself before continuing. "I thought I might mix your courses a bit and try out your math skills. In the upper left hand corner of each paper there is a number. The first set is randomly marked with a number from two to twenty eight. The second set will be marked with one of those numbers' squares. You need to find the person holding the square of your number or the square root of your number." He handed out the last four papers and returned to the front of the room. "Of course, there are numbers that would cause a problem with this arrangement. Those numbers have a plus sign next to them. So 2 matches 4. But 4+ matches 16. 16+ matches…two…fifty six? Yeah. Does everyone understand this?" Low mutters spread through the class accompanied by nods of understanding. He clapped his hands together loudly. "Alright! Let's get to it! Go go go!"

Everyone looked around cautiously before making a move, save one girl in the back row. Her eyes were locked on the back of the head of a classmate in the front row. Truth be told, her eyes had been locked on the blonde for weeks. They shared 2 classes but she had also kept a vigil watch for the girl around campus since she first spotted her in the advisor's office. She took a deep breath, threw her hair over her shoulder with a swift neck toss, and stood to her feet. As if sensing incoming danger, the other girl turned to her left with wide eyes. The wrong direction since her admirer was approaching on her right. The boy in the corner seat had already peeked at his neighbor's paper and seen, regrettably, that he and she were not compatible. He was still lingering in his seat when the brunette sauntered up to him. He gave her a coy smirk as he lifted his paper, beginning to speak. She held up her hand in front of his face, not making a sound. Eyes closed, she shook her head left once then right. She opened her eyes as she persuaded him out of his seat with a jerk of her head. Silently dejected by two beautiful girls in under a minute, he stood from his chair and began searching for his perfect match. She'd had no doubts up to this point but as she stood next to the object of her affection, she realized that she may _not_ have the matching paper. But she cleared her throat anyway. It caught the other girl's attention.

"Any chance we're partners?" she smiled down at her.

She was a bit startled but she handled it coolly. "I'm number 2" she smiled back at the stranger.

She was leaping on the inside but outwardly confident as always as she sat in the vacant seat to the girl's right. "You're my perfect square root. Santana." She placed her hand to her chest.

"I'm Brittany." She offered her hand and Santana lightly shook it. "I guess that answers question one."

She quickly filled in the blank line next to 'name'. This had been done so many times in so many classes. Often times, Santana had done what many of the students around them were doing at that very moment. They would switch the papers, fill in the answers themselves and trade papers again. But this time she wanted to draw it out for as long as comfortably possible.

"Age?"

"Eighteen. And you?"

"A very fresh nineteen but I get better with age. I hope." Brittany responded with a silent laugh to the answer as she doodled a quick one nine on the paper. Santana stole quick glances at the girl while she wrote each answer, taking note of her milky arms and hands, practically void of any ornate jewelry. Except for the one digit that really meant anything. The ring finger of her left hand bore a petite stone encrusted band that piqued Santana's interest. Her thoughts began to wander, forming possible images of the person who placed the ring there.

"Santana..?"

"Hmm?"

"I didn't think I had gotten your name wrong already. I asked you your major. Mine's liberal arts."

"Sorry. Psychology. Liberal arts? Isn't that like saying 'undecided'?"

Brittany reacted to the question bashfully. She subconsciously rotated the ring repeatedly with her thumb as she filled in the answer. "I guess so. My dad really wanted me to go straight to college after high school. He was afraid I would get lost on my way to trying to find myself or something." She shrugged and offered a smile to her inquisitive partner, who smiled back, resting her head on her right hand.

"Maybe he just felt you and the boyfriend were getting too serious. Dads like to remind us that we don't need a man to make us whole. Some dads, anyway." Brittany looked genuinely confused until she caught the quick glance of the brown eyes and she realized her nervous tick had been noticed.

"Uh no. This," she held up her hand "is my mom's. _Was_ my mom's." Santana didn't pause at the change of words or inflection. She pressed on with sincere curiosity. "Would she think you would get lost on your journey to self discovery?"

The blonde smiled incredulously at Santana only to get an inquisitive eyebrow raise in exchange. She fumbled for an answer. "I mean, I guess she would agree with Dad." Brittany could tell that the girl didn't believe her. She changed her answer. "No. No she wouldn't believe that I would get lost. She believed in me. And that's all that mattered. I could tell her dancing was all I wanted to do and she would support me in any way possible. But she's dead and I'm…here."

She was staring. Leaning on her arm, with a creased forehead, the dark haired girl was literally staring into the blue eyes looking back at her. As much as it should have unsettled her, Brittany found comfort in the intense oak eyes. She even felt a smile creeping upon her own face. Santana chose that exact moment to readjust herself in her seat. She turned her body in Brittany's direction and gave her a straightforward reply.

"Then you should dance. If it's what you love and who you are, and you have someone who believes in you-she still believes in you, you know- then that's what you need to do. Otherwise, nothing else will really work out because you'll always be thinking about what you could've had. But I'm sure I'm only telling you things you already know."

Brittany didn't know whether to be offended or impressed by Santana's perseverance. "You know, most people wouldn't be so forward about a stranger's life."

"Most people don't actually care about other people besides themselves." Santana shrugged. She liked her. She had only known her for a few moments, but Brittany felt an ease that she had yet to feel since the loss of her mother just 2 years earlier. She knew she had been walking in a fog, unwilling to let anyone in and barely seeing anyone through the gray, but Santana had ignored the barrier and somehow began molding a little niche in her. It was a curious feeling but still, one that she felt ready to welcome into her life. She turned back to the paper, preparing to ask the next question, but her hesitation awarded Santana the time to ask it first.

"What do you feel is your biggest personality flaw?" As if she were already in possession of a degree, Santana gingerly crossed her right leg over her left and twirled the ink pen between the fingers of her left hand in the air as she patiently awaited an answer to analyze. But it was a pose Brittany was familiar with and was eager to dismantle.

"My lack of self confidence. I am very shy and I don't let my true self show too often. The only time it fades is when I dance. Yours?"

Her mouth was open halfway through the confession but shut just as quickly when her thought was interrupted by the quick return of the question. It was Brittany's turn to raise her eyebrows in anticipation of an answer. Santana gave her a smirk and a nod as if saying "nicely done" as she uncrossed her legs and set the pen down before answering.

"Exact opposite. My abundance of self confidence is my biggest setback."

"Wait. That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does. Think about it. When you feel like you know everything and can do anything, you lack the desire to actually exert any effort. It makes it hard to be teachable in all situations."

Brittany's face was frowned up in an obvious display of sheer confusion so Santana opted to give her a clearer understanding with a scenario.

"Think of it this way. Say you and I are friends." Brittany nodded with a smile at the thought. "And we're out walking downtown or something. Maybe I have been interested in you for awhile. Romantically. Just for the sake of this scenario, of course."

Brittany's eyes momentarily widened as she nodded again and softly repeated the words "of course."

"So I spot a couple of people. Maybe they're lovers. Maybe just friends. But then I start telling you that I can identify the level of their relationship just by watching them. You would be enticed to hear more so I would go on, because I'm just that alluring." She struck a pose to punctuate the sentence. Brittany mockingly rolled her eyes before they both laughed at the gesture.

"Then I would tell you all about body language and how close they are to each other. I'd go on about how lovers hold hands but that friends often do too and I would subtly demonstrate by using you as my partner in the exercise. I'd probably just brush my arm against yours, gauging your reaction before taking your hand into mine. I'd say 'this is how friends hold hands' and grip your hand palm to palm like in a prayer circle. Then I would explain the lovers' method and entwine my fingers with yours. And that'd be it."

The little clarity that had been shining in her blue eyes quickly evaporated as she was lost again.

"What would be it?"

"End of story. I would have your hand in mine and not let go of it."

"But what does that story have to do with your flaw? And what makes you think _I _wouldn't let go?"

"Because you'd want to hold my hand just as badly as I would want to hold yours." She smiled.

Brittany's lips parted as if she intended to contest the assumption. But nothing came out but the slightest chuckle.

"Overconfidence duly noted" she replied.


	2. Chapter 2

She woke to a sea of nothing but black. Except it wasn't black. It was so much darker. She tried blinking her eyes, assuming her own eyelids were creating the shadow world around her. Still no change. She resigned to wait for her eyes to adjust but how could they adjust with no semblance of illumination?

"…such a spirit to her."

"Maybe it's better this way."

"Randy! How could you say that?"

"You didn't know her. You'll never understand."

The phantom voice faltered and faded just like the light had, into nothingness. Brittany rubbed her eyes furiously trying to spot the strangers. When she opened them once again, there was neither person nor sound in the room. But something blue in the far corner caught her eye. She paid no mind to the fact that the room she was in was much too large to be her dorm room. Giving in to the magnetic attraction, she quickly rose from her resting position and crossed the distance. The closer her approach, the softer the blue light. Until the blue light became a blue curtain. She already knew what she would find behind that curtain but she couldn't stop. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't even blink. The darkness weighed her down like lead but, ironically, the magnet only pulled with an even stronger force. She tried choking back the tears but failed miserably as they found an escape. She was on the other side of the barrier, her hands gripping the cold metal guardrail of the hospital bed but she felt nothing. The breath she had been holding rushed out of her lungs carrying an anguished wail as she stared down at the lifeless body in the bed. People had always said she had her mother's eyes. Eyes she'd never see again. She shakily extended her hand toward her mother's hair. As her fingers attempted to wrap around one of the soft brown curls it disintegrated into dust. She jerked her hand back in horror as the erosion continued. She fell back against a wall that wasn't behind her before as she collapsed to the floor covering her eyes. She felt herself screaming but there was no sound. Traces of her mother tickled the skin of her arm and she fell through the wall that never existed. The scream that had been absent was now deafening in a much smaller room as daylight lit up the real world around her. She tried to sit up but two hands held her firm to the mattress.

"Hey, Sunshine! It's okay. Shh. It's okay."

The hands loosened their grip and gently grazed Brittany's arms from shoulder to elbow and back to shoulder again. It was the sensation she had felt in her dream. The tingling that had been caused by her mother's ashes. But now, with a source of warmth added, it wasn't as alarming. It was comforting. But she was still disoriented and needed explaining more than comforting. Her body still felt heavy and it took all her energy just to force words out.

"What time is it?"

"A quarter to one. You missed lit class this morning. Your roommate told me you were still here." Santana could feel Brittany tensing up so she stopped her gentle massaging and rested her hands in her own lap. She took note of the sweat beads covering Brittany's face but they didn't disguise the tears that she had witnessed fall. Mr. Phillips had added a surprise to the end of the assignment and informed the class that they would be partnered with each other for the semester. At Santana's suggestion, the two girls opted to extend the "getting to know each other" exercise by actually getting to know each other. It had only been a couple weeks so Santana didn't know the best way to ask Brittany if she was okay but she didn't need to for the moment.

"You talked to Frieda? I don't think she likes me very much." Santana replied to the question with a slow head nod and smiled as Brittany squinted up at her.

"I guess I could see that. But… it's probably just because her name is Felicia."

Brittany's nose crinkled as she processed the information. She finally mustered the strength to lift her torso from the bed and look the other girl in the eye. Her eyes narrowed as she searched the darker eyes in front of her for a sign of facetiousness. Finding none, she shrugged her shoulders and lifted herself all the way up, pulling her legs from beneath the blanket and swinging them around Santana's body to sit next to her on the side of the bed. Santana bit her bottom lip with worry as she observed Brittany concentrating on her own bare feet, slowly forcing each toe to make contact with the warm wood beneath them. She wanted to know what had made the young girl scream but she was too afraid to alienate her. If she were to be completely honest with herself, Santana was afraid of a lot of things lately. For someone who had always been so sure of herself, she found herself questioning her every move when Brittany was involved. Boys had always been easy. Girls, intriguing. Brittany was…walking away. Her oversized t-shirt was dark with sweat on the small of her back. Her hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail with loose strands of the blonde hair brown from moisture and sticking to the back of her neck. She steadied herself on the desk across from her bed as she tried to breathe in fresh air and a clearer mindset. Santana swallowed her emotions and let her mind take over.

"So do you often wake up screaming or is that just a Wednesday ritual?" Brittany didn't turn around.

"I don't know. It happens. I don't keep track of the things I don't want to remember. Do _you_?"

There was a bite to her words that didn't go unnoticed by the inquisitor. It was unexpected but Santana accepted it, recognizing the common defense mechanism. She still winced at the reply, thankful that her expression could not be seen.

"No. I guess I don't. I'm sorry for intruding. Really." Brittany finally turned around but she looked like she was miles away. She was still concentrating on something but Santana couldn't tell what.

"Why are you here?"

She wasn't trying to be malicious with her words. She was truly confused. She wiped her face on the inside of her shirt and blinked her eyes a few times, trying to wake up. She was suddenly conscious of the fact that she was basically naked under her night shirt and began to scan the room for something more appropriate. Santana wasn't unfamiliar with the "straight girl in a room with a lesbian; must protect myself with as much cotton as possible" nervous dance so she quickly relieved the straight girl of her distress and picked up the shorts from the floor at the foot of the bed. She took just enough steps toward Brittany to hand her the shorts before backing up to the room door. She felt like they were just meeting for the first time and that the situation was far too awkward for her to stay.

"We had plans. But I can see you're not feeling well. Just um, text me later or something?"

She was out the door before she even got an answer from the girl who was preoccupied with getting dressed. She stood outside the door, still holding the doorknob behind her back. She didn't understand what had just happened. She was so used to being in control but her body had betrayed her by walking into the hallway. Panic. It was something she hadn't experienced since childhood. But that was what Brittany did to her. She made her feel like a child. Like everything was new and fragile. And just like a child, Santana wanted to protect what was hers. Confrontation wasn't the way to do so. The realization of this brought a small smile to Santana's face but she still had to force herself to leave the hallway and go on with her day. She gave the white door one last glance before placing her right foot in front of her left and leaving the dormitory.

On the other side of the wooden barrier Brittany stood in the middle of the room, finally dressed. She hated to be alone. She had felt alone for the past two years but it was better masked when she had others around her. She racked her brain to think of what plans she had made with the girl who had just abandoned her. She walked back over to the desk and retrieved the worksheet.

_What is your favorite movie? Legends of the Fall_

She remembered laughing at the explanation she had received.

"Have you seen that man cry? Annnndddd he was the only brother that got the girl. Twice. I'm just saying. Brad Pitt has serious game."

They had made plans to watch it at Santana's today. She had been looking forward to it but the dream had completely unraveled her and now she was alone and regretting ever having gone to sleep. The sweat on her body had dried and left her skin feeling disgusting. She knew she should head for the showers but she collapsed back into the bed, scooping her phone up off the nightstand next to it. She quickly had the message typed with barely a glance at the phone keyboard. She pressed send. She rolled over and closed her eyes, hoping for a better daydream than the previous nightmare.


	3. Chapter 3

They walked across the small campus, arm in arm as Brittany kept silent. Her companion was never one for silence, ever since childhood. The tune of Dixie rang from his throat for no more than 6 seconds before Brittany smacked the back of his head.

"Ow! What'd you do that for?"

"Really? Of all the things you could whistle? Dixie? Please, try to be an even bigger sore thumb."

He thought about it for a moment then began whistling the theme to Green Acres, nudging her to sing along with the tune. She laughed at his indifference as she briskly walked on ahead of him. He ended the tune and jogged to catch up with her. He slowed his gait as their steps matched up again.

"Well… if you were to feel so inclined, madam, you could try offering other distractions? Maybe a conversation?" She hooked her arm through his again as she formed her words inside her mind.

"How's Dad?"

He nodded his head and scratched the light brown scruff on his chin. He took note of the boys playing extreme frisby across the courtyard. They looked like middle school kids compared to what he was used to back home. Maybe everything really was bigger and better in the south. A smug smile lingered on his face as he replied to the question.

"Dad's Dad. Did you really send an S.O.S. text to have me fly all the way here from Texas to tell ya something I coulda told ya over the phone?" She shook her head no but she wasn't in a rush to explain herself. He had been her best friend since they were 4 and 5. He had spent more time at her house than his own, being shuttled to and fro from dance rehearsals to recitals, referring to her parents as his own. It had always been her first instinct to call him whenever she felt a moment of weakness. She never thought about the end result, only thinking of her need for a hero.

"Jace… Do you remember my mom's nurses? The ones that were there for her homecare?" He nodded silently as she continued. "I dreamed about one of them. But it was weird. It wasn't like a dream. It felt more like a memory that I never had. That doesn't make any sense, does it?" His face was perplexed as he considered the correct response. But she didn't give him a chance to answer the question.

"I just feel like there's a lot I don't know, Jace, and I feel like I need more closure than anyone was willing to offer me when she passed. You think you can help me?"

"Ya know I got your back, hot shot. No matter what. I don't know how but whatever ya need, I got."

She leaned into his bear hug, thankful that he never made her regret their friendship. "I just need you to maybe find me the nurses. Shouldn't be too hard."

"Consider it done. So… anything else you wanna tell me? Got any boyfriends I need to rough up a bit? Maybe a hot girlfriend that needs a proper dancin partner?" He clapped once before dropping into a low stance in front of her with his hands on his knees and began popping his rear to an eight count beat. She stepped back awkwardly, looking around to see if anyone else was watching.

"Lucas Jason Miller! We've been over this before! Booty popping is NEVER acceptable in public! Stand up, you idiot!"

He moved the dance backwards right along with her. She stepped sideways a bit then ran backwards just enough to get the momentum she needed. Before he had a chance to realize what was coming, she had already tackled him and was pushing herself off him. She stood over him, with her foot resting proudly on his chest.

"I doubt you're her type anyway."

/ / /

She entered the restaurant right on time, knowing she would still be marked as tardy. Some people just weren't possible to please. Nor were they worth it. She held a small box in her hand wrapped with white paper swirled with a pattern of cream ribbons. A silver glitter bow accented the center of the lid. She locked eyes on her waiting party before the hostess had a chance to offer her assistance. She smiled and nodded to the woman then proceeded to the table. The youngest member of the waiting group seemed to notice her first as he eagerly grinned and stood up from his seat. His blue and white striped button down shirt was well oversized as were his blue jeans. He welcomed her with a hug and Santana squeezed back tightly. She had missed his goofy hugs.

"Happy birthday, Peety."

"Hey", he cautioned her. "I'm almost sixteen. It's Pedro now."

"Ha! Okay, Pedro. Even when you're 80, you're still gonna be my little Peety." She looked around the table and gave her greetings to the rest of her family with a wave. Pausing on the man seated at the head of the table.

"Papa."

"Santana. Much traffic?"

She shook her head as her older brother pulled out her chair for her, discreetly giving her a 'don't get him started' wink. Her left eye twitched just enough in response to relay that she got the message.

"None at all, actually. I just got a little preoccupied. Did I miss anything?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. You're right on time, isn't she Miguel?" Her mother gave her father a stern look. He avoided her stare and gave his only daughter a tight smile. He mumbled under his breath as he raised his water glass to his mouth.

"Never hurts to be a few minutes ahead of schedule." Santana sucked in a slow breath through clenched teeth before turning her attention back to her younger brother.

"Big plans for the weekend or the usual Mountain Dew fueled Call of Duty marathon?"

"It's not the same since your classes started. Nobody's got your skills."

She laughed at his confession but nodded in silent agreement. "I'm sure you're doing the Lopez name proudly."

"Someone should be."

"Miguel!"

The waiter arrived to take drink orders, granting Santana reprieve from her father's digs. Miguel Jr. wrapped his arm around the back of his sister's chair as he ordered himself a beer and 2 shots of tequila for her, suggesting that the waiter leave the worm in it. She waved him off and ordered a sweet tea instead. Her mother had been staring at her from the minute she sat down. Once the orders were in, she began the annual check in.

"So, mija. How is everything? All your classes meeting your standards?"

"Things are good, mom. Classes are fine. The plumbing in the apartment is still functional. I eat well. I avoid the parties. I'm taking my vitamins. No little buns in the oven. As if there was much chance of that."

She shouldn't have said that. She knew she shouldn't have said that. Her brother's chair creaked as he straightened up, probably realizing the same thing she just did. Pedro cringed in his seat next to his father. Her father appeared to be laughing? Silently laughing.

"That's funny. It's supposed to be funny, right?" He was mocking her. "Because everything is a joke to you, isn't it? Hanging with only boys as a kid, agreeing to wear a gown to your quinceanera only if you were allowed to wear a pants suit for half of it. Deciding that having a boyfriend was too normal for you. Choosing to be gay. It's all one big disgraceful joke to you?"

She scoffed at his rant. The drinks arrived but she no longer cared to be discreet. Her brother's protective hand was on her shoulder quickly. She angrily peeled it off.

"How many times do I need to tell you it isn't a choice?"

"This isn't the time, mija."

"No, Mom. It's never the time. Because it's always about him and his time. His image. His shame. Screw that. I'm gay, Dad. Alright? I love girls. I'm not harming anything but your foolish pride. Why? I'm still the same girl from the family photo albums. Same body. Same mind. Everything is still your little Santana. But I got older. And wiser. Maybe you should give it a try."

Before her father could reply with a bite of his own, Pedro interjected.

"No! This isn't happening tonight! It's my birthday dinner and I already never see my sister so stop screwing this up for me, damn it!"

The group went silent at the sound of his shouting. Tense glares were exchanged all around the table as they settled back into the pretend image of a happy family out to dinner to celebrate a birthday. Santana fought back a cry in her throat as she looked over Jr. and into Pedro's eyes. She mouthed an "I love you" to him. He rubbed away the teardrops that were beginning to fall and cleared his throat.

"Watch your mouth, young man." His father admonished his language before perusing the dinner menu.

"Yes sir."

Miguel Jr. winked his approval to his little brother and slid him his beer, placing his arm on the back of Santana's chair again. He quietly whispered in his sister's ear.

"Next time, he gets the worm."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N This chapter contains offensive/derogatory/triggering subjects. Consume with a grain of salt.**

The students filed into the room with a shared sluggish attitude. It had been raining for 3 days straight. The weather stations had predicted a break in the precipitation but the sky was still just as gray at eight in the morning as it had been at six in the evening the previous day. Normally the weather had no effect on Santana's mood but walking into the classroom that day, she fit right in with her peers. She clumsily walked the narrow path between the front row of chairs and the row of tables behind them. Her bag hit the head of the boy in the third seat and he emphatically voiced his pain. She readjusted the strap over her right shoulder, pausing to address her victim.

"Oh, like that _really_ hurt. Next time tell your head not to be in the way of my bag, numb nuts." She trudged on to the end of the row and her seat next to Brittany, the only person in the class who didn't seem as dark as the storm clouds passing by outside. Santana found a bitter jealousy rising inside of her but she didn't know why. She then felt guilty for envying Brittany's apparent happiness. They hadn't talked since Santana left Brittany's dorm room the previous week. She pulled her chair out and pulled it a few inches away from Brittany's before sitting down. Brittany was the first to say hi. Santana felt a little more at ease when she smiled at her.

"Hey to you too." They fell silent again. Brittany was still smiling at Santana. The class was steadily filling up. Brittany spoke again. "Did you have a good weekend?" Santana thought about her weekend happenings. She thought of how she had left the family dinner with a smile on her face but went straight home to her apartment and cried into a glass of tequila. If she hadn't had a class on Monday, she would have been in bed for a full 2 days by the time she saw Brittany again. Her father did that to her every time.

"It was uneventful. You?"

"It was really great actually. My best friend came to visit. He'll be flying home this morning."

Santana's face did little to hide her shock. "Wow. All the way from Texas just for a weekend? Well that was really sweet of him." Brittany nodded as her thoughts seemed to be reconstructing the weekend. Santana's stomach began to knot as Brittany's expression melted into one of unmistakable admiration.

"Yeah. It really was. But he's always been like that. Whenever I need him, there he is."

Before another word could be spoken, Mr. Phillips dropped his books on his desk and called for silence. Santana had nothing more to say at the moment anyway so she turned around and faced the board. Brittany wasn't done talking though. She leaned over and whispered in Santana's ear.

"By the way, I'm sorry about last Wednesday. I was having a really bad day and I didn't mean to be so rude." Her shampoo was strawberry scented. Santana bit the inside of her bottom lip as she waved off the apology. She smiled to make sure Brittany understood she accepted the gesture and tried to stare at the professor as if she was really in the mood to learn. Brittany did the same. Mr. Phillips wrote on the board with a red marker in all capital letters, a single word. **SLUR**. He turned around with a stoic look on his face. He was looking at no one in particular. Santana actually traced his line of sight to the back of the room. He was staring at a bare wall.

"Define it!"

They had never heard him yell before. Every conversation that had still been in progress was immediately halted. He opened his mouth again to repeat himself but Dennis spoke up quickly.

"A derogatory term used against a group of people to insult them." The boy Santana had hit with her shoulder bag.

"Examples!" He was not in a jovial mood and everyone was on notice. They looked from face to face to see if anyone understood what was happening. None of them spoke.

"Oh, okay." He began to pace in front of the class, from the left to the right and back again. "So you're all just dumb now, huh? Deaf and mute? None of you know of any slurs. You're all perfect little ignorant angels that have never been called something or ever called someone some horrible word you heard on the street." They all remained silent. Mr. Phillips looked like he may cry. He was a middle aged man of great stature with brown hair and brown eyes and a firm square jaw line but it was quivering as he stood in front of the students. He walked to the back of the room and handed off the marker to a student in the last row. His voice was too low for most of the class to hear but the few that did hear his request looked alarmed. The student shook his head fervently. Mr. Phillips instructed the student again and was denied again. He raised his voice enough for the last few words to reach the entire class.

"…or you will not pass this class." The student stood from his seat with the same posture as Mr. Phillips. Tears in his eyes but anger motivating his limbs to move. He stomped to the board and removed the cap from the marker. Under the word **SLUR** he wrote another word in all capital letters. NIGGER. He stood in front of the class, and stared each student in the eye; most of them looked away, before he returned to his seat. When Mr. Phillips asked for his marker back, the student flung it towards the front of the room. He didn't say anything to him. He simply walked back to the front of the classroom and picked it up. He looked around the room as if determined. He approached yet another student. They had all heard the ultimatum so refusing the request was not an option. One by one he singled out students until the board began to fill up with hateful terms that no one would ever admit they had used. Spic, kike, halfbreed, towelhead, chink, jap, fob, beaner, honkey, coon. Some wrote large print, others as small as possible as if to pretend the word didn't exist. As each word hit the board, Mr. Phillips looked less and less appeased. He sat on the edge of his desk, covering his mouth with his hand. He looked at Brittany. She had been sitting like a statue throughout the entire exercise. Her blue eyes were shimmering with tears that could fall at any moment. He stepped over to her and stood the marker up on the desk in front of her. She and Santana finally heard the request the other students had heard.

"Go to the board, and write the meanest word anyone has ever called you." She looked like she had just been slapped in the face. Her mouth opened and a small whimper fell out. Santana felt a pang in her heart for the young girl. What could she possibly have to add to a board covered in slurs? Aryan? But she wasn't allowed to refuse or she would fail the class. She stared up into Mr. Phillips eyes with a pleading in her own as he began to repeat the command. Halfway through the line Santana snatched the marker off the table and rushed to the board.

Miss Lopez, I was not speaking to you." She continued to write her word on the board. But she didn't stop. She wrote another word. "Miss Lopez." And another word. "Miss Lopez!" And another, and another, and another… She drew a line down the middle of the words she had written then a line above them. On the top line she wrote in capital print, 3 letters. She put the cap back on the marker, placed it in the tray at the bottom of the board and stepped aside to let the class see what she had written.

_GAY _ 

Dyke | Faggot

Carpetmuncher |Butt pirate

Butch | Pussy

Sir | Ma'am

"Slurs aren't just racial. Should I add more to this list? I mean, I could go on but you seemed to be in a yelling mood and that really annoys the _hell_ out of me when I'm busy being the center of attention. Oh but wait! Let me have just one more minute of fame to sum up this little bullying lesson plan you cranked out here…sir." She smiled politely as she pointed to the word on the bottom of her list. "I'm just assuming that your intent was to show us all that words hurt and that everyone is going through something and we are all the same deep down inside so it's time to come together as a people. Right? Wrong. Nothing changes when nothing changes, Mr. Phillips. You think you were teaching a lesson here? All you did was stir up anger in a bunch of kids. Trying to end bullying by being a bully is the dumbest technique you could have ever tried. I hope to _God_ you have a plan B career."

She walked back to her seat and grabbed her book bag. She gave Brittany a quick wink and walked out of the classroom. Before she knew it, the rest of the class was walking out as well, all going in different directions. She paused for a moment as she considered waiting for Brittany but then she remembered Brittany's great weekend and she continued her walk to the exit doors. The slightest bit of sunlight was peeking through the clouds. She didn't have another class for 3 hours and nothing to occupy her time. Her momentary blaze of glory was now nothing more than a spark. She decided to head back home and back to bed.

/ / /

Brittany was still seated at the table when the rest of the students joined the unannounced walk out. She didn't know what to do. Things like this weren't a problem for her back home and she had never felt more ignorant. Mr. Phillips was still standing with his back to her as he stared at Santana's parting words. She cleared her throat to let him know that she was in fact still there. He didn't turn around. His body began to shake as he gave in to the tears. Brittany stood from her seat quietly and walked to the door. She wiped away a tear of her own as she looked back to her sociology professor. He retreated to his desk and collapsed in sobs. She left him to cry in peace. She walked slowly to the exit, thinking of what she should do to help Mr. Phillips. But then she realized she had just gotten out of class 2 hours early. Jace wouldn't be on a plane for another 2 and a half hours. She picked up her pace and made her way to her dorm room before taking a cab to his hotel.

He opened the door wearing a pair of navy blue Aeropostale sweatpants and a lazy smile.

"Ain't you supposed to be in class, brat?" She pushed her way past him and dropped down on his bed. "Hurry up and shower so you can take me to breakfast. I want pancakes. Ooh! And biscuits and gravy! You think they serve mac and cheese this early? I'm starving!" He shut the door and walked back to the center of the room. He ran his hand through his messy head of hair and looked at Brittany through sleep laden eyes. "What are you going on about?" She stood up and began picking up all his clothes. She shoved them in his roller suitcase without a system of organization. "Food! Let's go! You go shower or just put on a shirt or something, I will get you packed up, we'll check out, go to breakfast and then you'll go home. Let's go, let's go!" She started pushing him into the bathroom as he barely resisted. It was still an effort for her. He laughed as she shifted her body to lean into his back with her shoulder.

"Okay, okay! Geez! I'm going. I'll be out in ten, ya lunatic!" He shut the door behind him and she plopped down on the bed again. The sun was still struggling to escape its cloudy prison. She looked around the room for anything of his that may need to be shoved in his suitcase. She spotted his wallet and watch on the nightstand right next to his phone. She lay back on the bed and grabbed all 3 items. As she placed them beside her on the bed, the phone screen lit up and revealed his background image. An old picture of her and Jace holding up their trophies from a dance competition. Her dad had obviously snapped the picture too early because her mom was still in it, off to the side but still in the frame, walking back toward her father. He was always struggling to work the camera. Most of the pictures in the family album guest starred at least one of his fingers covering the lens. She laughed at the memory of it. Her mom had joked that maybe they should give them names and adopt them into the family. Her dad had replied that the agency would never approve him as an appropriate caregiver what with all the times in a single day he cut or burn them while trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches. Her parents. A perfect comedy duo. He stopped laughing when she stopped joking.

She didn't notice the sound of the shower turning off. Nor did she hear the bathroom door open. She was sitting in tears when she noticed the two bare feet on the floor in front of her. "You alright?" She nodded and wiped her face quickly. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was glistening with water. He shook his head over her and she instinctively punched him in the stomach with a giggle. He doubled over with a grunt and fell to the bed beside her. "Hurry up! Some of us do have lives to live today." She patted the phone on the towel wrapped around him to dry the few water drops he had gotten on the screen and placed it on the bed next to his wallet. "I'll meet you in the lobby." She left him to get dressed and headed to the guest service desk. By the time he showed up to check out, she had a cab waiting and details on the nearest pancake house.

/ / /

The doorknob turned before she placed the key in the lock. As the door swung open she jumped back and the intruder did the same with a scream.

"Dios mio, Santana! Qué estás haciendo?"

"Me? I'm coming home. What are _you_ doing? How did you even get in?"

"Your father and I are on the lease, Santana. We get a key too, you know."

Santana shook her head as she let the thought settle. "Right. Right. I knew that." She looked up from the ground and repeated her question. "But what are you doing here?"

"Ay, come inside at least. No need to alert the neighbors that you're afraid of your own mother." She walked into her dark living room and stood to the side as her mother closed the door while letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. She had removed the bulbs from the lamps in the room when she got home Saturday night. As she waited a moment longer before taking a step, her mother flipped the switch on the wall and lit the room up with bulbs brighter than the usual wattage. Of course. Her mother wouldn't walk around a dark apartment for long.

"You owe your landlord 2 bulbs. I thought maybe they were blown but I go to the lamps and the bulbs don't exist. Maybe you should check your friends' pockets when they leave, hmm?" Santana widened her eyes and nodded with a smile. Her mom continued talking as she walked into the tiny kitchen on her right. There was no real wall separating the two rooms. Just a counter high wall that connected to the wall of the hallway. Santana watched her mother's actions from where she stood in the living room. "So I came to make sure everything was okay. I brought some groceries by, and just in time apparently. At least you're keeping the place clean. No sign of rodents. The landlord will be by tomorrow to replace your showerhead. I don't like that dripping." She paused. "And I wanted to make sure you were okay." There it was.

"I'm fine, Ma." Her mother opened the freezer, pulled out the half empty Cuervo bottle, and placed it on the counter. "Say that to me again, mija." Santana rounded the corner of the short wall and snatched the bottle off the counter. She put it back in the freezer and stood in front of her mother, stiff as a board and repeated herself. I'm fine. Ma." She walked back to the living room and dropped her book bag on the couch.

"Santana. I love you. But-"

"I love you too, Ma, so do us both a favor and don't finish that sentence. "

"Santana-"

"No, Ma! Okay? I know what you're going to say. That your dad didn't approve of your choices either. That he wanted you to wait a little longer. Get married to a good man when you were just a bit older. See what your options were. Don't you get it? Little girls grow up and marry men just like their daddies. Dad _is_ just like your dad. That's the problem. He wants me to see my options. Marry a good man when I get older. But I will never marry a good man. I don't want a good man. I want a good woman, Ma. That's not going to change. This isn't a rebellious teen stage I'm going through. It's hard enough having feelings for someone I can't have. It's even worse to constantly be condemned for those feelings when they aren't even being reciprocated. God, if I'm going to be persecuted for loving her at least let her love me too!" She took a deep breath as she realized what she had said. She hoped it was as confusing to her mother as it was to her and she wouldn't have to answer any questions.

"Mija?" No such luck.

"Ma, could you please just go? Please?" Her voice cracked as she squeezed the last syllable out. Her mother walked over to her without a word and wrapped her arms around her. Santana let her tears flow silently as she held her mother for the first time in nearly two years.

/ / /

They sat at a booth with a window in the restaurant. Brittany pushed the menu at Jace trying to rush him along. He looked like he was about to speak and she lifted the menu in front of his face.

"You need to figure out what you want or I will order my food and you can just watch me eat it."

"Pushy pushy…" He peeked over the menu at her. The corners of his eyes were crinkled with a smile. She rolled her eyes at him but she was smiling too. The waitress showed up, introduced herself as Angie, and asked if they wanted coffee. Jace jumped in before Brittany could speak.

"Oh, no coffee for this one, Ang. It counteracts with her meds but you can bring me some and get her a large orange juice." She gave him a death stare as the waitress walked away.

"What? It's obvious ya don't need any more caffeine in yer system. You are hyper as hell, kid."

"You have until the time she gets back to figure out what you want to eat. Shut up and read."

When she placed the drinks on the table the waitress was ready to leave and give them a few more minutes but Brittany told her that wouldn't be necessary. She ordered exactly what she said she would. Biscuits and gravy, macaroni and cheese with sausage, and a short stack. Jace ordered a Denver omelet with a double side order of bacon. He picked up a few creamers and packets of sugar for his coffee. Brittany was staring at the suitcase next to Jace as the waitress walked away to put the order in. Jace stared at her, waiting for her to notice. When she didn't, he broke the silence.

"You got a problem with my bag?"

"No. I was just thinking that your purse is so much bigger than mine." He flung a packet of the sugar at her like a frisbee. She jerked to her left and it flew over her seat and on to the table behind them. He waved a somber apology to the elderly couple while Brittany stifled a laugh hunkered over in the empty seat next to her. She straightened back up as things returned to normal. She furrowed her brow as the rush of the morning started to slow to a halt.

"You gonna tell me what's eating ya?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well ya barely slept last night because ya didn't wanna waste any time while I was here. Then ya get outta class early and drag me out here so you can order a southern feast. And I know ya. I know ya, Brittany. You only eat like that when something's eating _you_. So spill."

So she did. She told him about her avoidance to sleep. She told him the dream wasn't a one time thing. She told him about her sorta shaky friendship with her sociology partner. She confessed to what happened in class and all about Santana's coming to her defense and her teacher's breakdown. She told him that she felt like she was losing her grip both at home and in this new city. And detail by detail, Jace took it in without a word. She was still filling him in on details of some of her dreams when the buffet arrived. She wrapped it up with a "you get the picture" and moved her orange juice glass so Angie could serve her. Jace was tapping on his phone screen as Angie set the table for them. He didn't notice that she had brought him a free order of toast as well and Brittany thanked her for him. There was still steam rising from the country gravy as she dug into the dish.

"What's yer teacher's name?"

She swallowed the food in her mouth. "Andrew Phillips. Why?"

"Welp. I see you still don't watch the news. Ya know my dad makes sure I keep up on news all over the country. You remember Matthew Shepard?"

They were just kids when that story made national headlines but she remembered it vividly. She nodded. He slid his phone over to her side of the table. There was a Nebraska newspaper article open in the web browser.

"Well, this guy, this David Phillips, is probably gonna be the new poster boy for the cause. He was queer and getting harassed. He stood up for himself and they killed him. But they tortured him first, B. Carving words like fag and homo into his skin. Putting makeup on him. They put him through hell. He woulda been 17 next month. They found him last night. Maybe-"

"He's Mr. Phillips' son."

"And yer friend just forced him to face it all over again."

Brittany stared at the headline of the article until the words became too blurry to see. She pushed the phone away as well as the plates in front of her. All she wanted to do was apologize to Mr. Phillips for not staying and to Santana for… for what? For everyone else's ignorance? No. She just wanted to see Santana. To talk to her and just listen to her. Jace pushed the plate back in front of her. She looked at his face. He looked like his father at that moment.

"Eat yer food. No use getting sick over something ya didn't do. The problems will still be there when yer done eating."

He was right and she knew that. Sometimes he was too wise for his age. They continued to eat their breakfast with little conversation, all the while, Brittany's mind was searching for a solution to a problem that she couldn't name.

/ / /

Santana woke up to a rapid knocking on her door. She checked the clock on her phone. A quarter to seven. Her mom left soon after she cried herself to sleep the first time. She was only awake long enough to destroy the light bulbs before she passed out on the couch again, skipping her afternoon class. She tossed the blanket on to the back of the couch, pulled herself up and felt her way to the kitchen and pulled the towel off the bar nailed to the side of the counter. She doused her face in water from the sink faucet and dried her face off before opening the door, towel still in hand.

"Brittany?"

"Hi, Santana. Did I… wake you?" Santana stepped back into the cover of darkness, cursing God again for letting her look like that in front of Brittany.

"It's okay. I was well past my alarm time anyway. Come on in." Brittany took the same cautious path Santana had taken that morning. Two steps into the dark room, clearing enough space to close the door, and then freezing. Santana shut the door and stood for a moment readjusting.

"Brittany?"

"Yeah?"

"I just needed to know where you were. Don't freak out. You're going to feel me come past you, okay?"

"Okay."

Santana reached out into the dark and lightly placed a hand on Brittany's shoulder for just a second to get her bearings. She removed her hand then counted her steps to the bookcase and wrapped her hand around the kitchen lighter. She flicked the switch and quickly lit the 3 candles that rested near the lighter's home. She placed one of the lit candles on the TV stand, one on the coffee table and the third on the short wall of the kitchen. With the room illuminated, she ushered Brittany to take a seat on the couch. She thought about excusing herself to try to relieve some of the puffiness in her face but she decided against it.

"If I knew you were coming I'd have had lights. Maybe." She tried to joke but it was too much effort. Brittany looked around the dimly lit room and noticed the lamps but said nothing when she saw the light switch was still in the on position.

"It's okay. Sometimes it's nice to get away from the conventional things." She scooted over to make room on the couch. "Did you want to sit down?" Santana looked at the couch and thought she might cry again so she turned and walked into the kitchen, ignoring the question entirely. "Are you thirsty? I have water, juice, tequila, rum, vodka… Mixed drink made to order?"

"Water's fine." Santana pulled a bottle from the bottom of the fridge and walked back into the living room. She handed the bottle off and stepped back again.

"Santana, please. Sit down." She looked at the couch once more than opted to sit on the coffee table across from Brittany instead.

"Are you afraid I'll bite you?"

"No. I'm just not on good terms with the couch right now. Why are you here, Brittany?" She realized she sounded just like Brittany had sounded the last time they were alone in close quarters. But Brittany wasn't nervous and she wasn't looking to get away.

"I wanted to talk about what happened in class today."

"You're welcome. Anything else?"

She didn't take Santana's tone as an insult. "Thank you and yes. When everyone left, Mr. Phillips fell apart. He just went to pieces right in front of me." Santana just nodded disinterestedly. "So I went to see my friend before his flight."Santana laughed.

"The almighty hero friend? Great. Please, tell me more about him." Brittany's face scrunched up in confusion. "Why are you so upset, Santana? Because of Jace?" Santana shook her head slowly as she mouthed the name. Brittany reached out and put her hand on Santana's arm. "He's my brother, Santana. He's been my brother since I was four." Brittany froze as she realized what she was saying. Why was she explaining her relationship to Santana? Why did she feel a need to keep the lines clear? She pulled her hand back into her own lap and continued with her reason for being there. "He showed me an article about a sixteen year old boy with the same last name as Mr. Phillips. He was killed last night for being gay, Santana." That got her attention. She looked at Brittany with a crazed look. Her mouth formed the word but nothing came out. She tried again.

"What?"

"Yeah. They tortured and killed this boy and then Mr. Phillips comes in this morning in the state he was in and it just makes sense that maybe they were related." Santana jumped to her feet and ran her hands through her hair. "And me, being the bitch that I am, threw that right in his face and probably cost him his job! God damn it, Brittany! What the fuck is wrong with me? I can't do anything right!" She fell back to the table again and put her head between her knees. Brittany tentatively reached out to touch her head just as Santana jumped up again and went back to the kitchen. She didn't even bother to find a glass. She guzzled the tequila straight from the bottle. "I try. Every day I try. But I'm never good enough. I never get what I deserve. Maybe because I set my goals too high. Or maybe because what goes around comes around and I'm out here foolishly mocking people's dead family members. Fucking aces, Santana."

Brittany didn't say anything. Partly because she didn't know what to say and partly because she felt any words at all would hurt more than help. She stood up and joined Santana in the kitchen. She took the bottle from her, sealed it and put it back in the freezer. Santana looked at her and knew what was coming.

"Don't hug me. I am _so_ sick of crying today."

Brittany held her hands up in surrender. "Tell me what you need." Santana ran her hands over her face. "Are you any good at first person shooter games?" Her look of utter confusion was enough of an answer. Her laugh was spontaneous but welcomed by Brittany as she breathed a sigh of relief. Santana leaned against the counter and pulled herself together. "Would it be too much if I asked you to just stay with me?"

"Will you sit on the couch with me or do I have to sit on the coffee table?"

"Couch."

"Okay." Santana put out the candle on the short wall and the one on the TV stand.

Brittany sat on the far end of the couch, left arm on the arm of the couch and her right arm stretched across the back of it, giving Santana as much room as she needed. Santana sat right next to her. "For the record, you did nothing wrong. Mr. Phillips may be grieving but he attacked you just the same. You defended yourself. And me. You did nothing wrong." Santana's face showed a trace of relief at hearing the words. She reached to the right end of the couch and grabbed the accent pillow. She placed the pillow in Brittany's lap and stretched her legs the length of the couch with her head on the pillow, reached over to the coffee table and picked up the TV remote. "Wanna watch Desperate Housewives reruns?"

"Sure." As Santana scanned the channels for the show, Brittany took the chance to ask her about what was bugging her.

"Santana? Why do you have lamps that don't turn on?"

She let out a slow sigh.

"They turn on. I'm just out of bulbs. I don't like to see myself when I'm at my ugliest." Brittany thought about the way she drank the tequila straight from the bottle without even flinching. "Don't worry. It doesn't happen often. It lasts for a while but it doesn't happen often."

"We're going to cut this one short. We're getting you some new bulbs tomorrow. Got it?"

Her eyes were closing again. "You're in charge now."

Brittany took the remote from her and lowered the volume to a dull roar. She reached up and pulled the blanket down over Santana's body. She was whispering as she was fading. One word over and over.

"Stay…"

"I'm staying." Brittany licked her thumb and index finger then reached over and squeezed the wick of the candle on the coffee table. She turned to Animal Planet and ran her hand over Santana's hair as she fell asleep to meerkat programming.


End file.
